


Kissed by the Highest Bidder

by BoxFullofCats



Series: Chasing Victory "What Ifs..." [2]
Category: British Actor RPF, British Royalty RPF, DC Cinematic Universe RPF, Henry Cavill - Fandom
Genre: AU Ending to an existing fanfic of mine, F/M, Heartbreak at an auction, Past Relationship(s), meeting your old lover while they are with their new lover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 14:51:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8165756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoxFullofCats/pseuds/BoxFullofCats
Summary: He smoothed down the hair at the back of his neck. It was longer from when he last saw her. She had always said she liked it longer. He just hoped it was up to par for her. Not that it mattered. They weren’t dating anymore.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Again I haven’t finished Chasing Victory. But I was thinking about what if situations. Much like Tom’s version this, this is a what if. What if Vicky didn’t end up with Henry. Also, this was partially inspired by an anon I got when Henry was first introduced in CV and his last name wasn’t mentioned. They thought I meant this other fella Vicky is with in this AU.

Henry fixed his jacket for the hundredth time. He’d try to adjust his bow-tie but he was worried he’d only make it crooked without a mirror to see what he was doing.

His mind couldn't form one coherent thought, it kept spouting gibberish. One moment sending encouragement, the next beating itself up. There was also a part that was just a steady stream of ‘Fuck, fuck. _FUCK_. Fuck,’ over and over again.

He smoothed down the hair at the back of his neck. It was longer from when he last saw her. She had always said she liked it longer. He just hoped it was up to par for her. Not that it mattered. They weren’t dating anymore. They hadn’t since he had been so incredibly stupid as to cause the best thing that had ever happened to him to walk out, without ever looking back.

And she looked so fucking beautiful tonight. She always did, but seeing her there in an evening gown, all done up, she looked like a fucking princess. And in reality she very nearly was.

His mind was snapped back to his surroundings as the auctioneer brought the audience's attention to the next item on the block. It wasn't for pleasure or personal gain, necessarily, that people attended. It was for charity. Specifically a charity that Henry supported, that he had introduced to Vicky. It touched him that she continued to support it even after they separated.

Part of Henry wondered if this was thought up as some sort of way to torture him, punish him, to see her here. Certainly it was not that easy to forget that his private life had been a running headlines for several months, once they Vicky and Henry had explicitly made it public, when they became serious. Especially with the “scandal” of her having lunch with Hiddleston. Henry knew of the lunch, knew about their past history. Once Vicky had been in his arms, he had not worried once about the man, had never doubted her. And of course the few weeks the rags had featured them after they split. Some had wanted to blame her. No, the end of their relationship had fallen on his shoulders. When the questions had been asked over a year later about the end of their relationship, Henry had been honest in saying it was his fault without giving details. Vicky had, in the very least, deserved that.

“Our next two items are from the artist Victoria Diaz,” the auctioneer announced. There was a murmur of excitement at this. Henry couldn't help the swell of pride rise in his chest. He had helped her share her talent with the world, convinced her not to hide it. Now her art was being sought after, praised.

That was why people were excited.

“They are from her new collection, and until tonight they have yet to be revealed. Both are numbered and documented. First piece up is called _Daughter of Styx Dancing.”_

What made her art so desirable was the ability to evoke the emotion she was feeling at the time she painted it and somehow embed into the paint. (If he believed in such things, he’d say she used magic.) This piece was no exception. It was pure incandescent joy on canvas. A few people laughed, giddy, just looking at it. He felt a smile grow on his face. He wanted to dance. It was as if all the joy he had felt in his life was dying to burst forth.

He wanted this painting.

As soon as the starting bid price was declared, Henry’s hand was up. And kept going up. And up.

Frustratingly, he was not highest bidder. He was going to win the next one, dammit.

_Victory’s Loss_ was nearly the exact opposite in tone and feeling. Henry heard at least one sob after it was put on display. For him, it brought forth all of the heartbreak, all the pain he felt and caused when Vicky left him. That she was with someone else now. He wanted to tear his heart from his chest. To wail.

He didn't realize he was crying until the person next to him handed him a tissue, as they dabbed their own eyes.

The highest bidder was Henry.

It would be no surprise that the items that brought in the most money for the charity that night were Vicky's paintings. At least not to him.

After the auction there was opportunity to mingle.

It gave Henry the chance to chat with the man Vicky was now dating. Correction, now engaged to; Prince fucking Henry.

She was going to marry a real life fucking prince.

Fuck.

His.

Life.

The two exchanged small talk, pleasantries and empty words.

“Do you have any upcoming projects?” the prince asked.

“A few, though not for another month or two,” Henry replied. The tone wasn't unfriendly, but rather very business-like. Restraint was key here.

“Are any of them a role in the next James Bond film?” Harry grinned, voicing recent rumors.

“Harry, he has his own successful spy franchise. Never the twain shall meet.”

Her voice was like getting splashed with cold water; it was refreshing but jarring to his soul.

“Hello love,” Harry turned his royal gaze upon Vicky. He took her hand in his and threaded their fingers together. “I thought I lost you there for a moment.”

“Sorry, I hadn't seen Natalie in a while and we got to talking,” Vicky laughed. “You know I how much I admire her.”

Harry’s smile grew and he teased her, “Were you able to string together more than five words?”

“Six,” she joked back. Then her dark eyes met Henry’s and he could feel his heart sigh in relief. It had been too long since he had seen her.

“Hello Vicky,” he smiled, sure he was breaking some sort of protocol by greeting a future royal in such a way.

“Hello Henry,” she replied back with a toothy grin. It wasn't malicious or done out of spite. It was because, despite all the heartache he had caused her, she seemed genuinely pleased to see him.

Harry’s glance between the two of them was the only indication he gave that he was aware of their joint history.

“You look very lovely,” Henry said as he clasped his wrist in front of him and inclined his head to her. “And, as always, your art is a masterpiece.”

She blushed, as she always did when someone complimented her on her work.

As Harry told him what he especially loved about the pieces, Vicky’s lovely dark brown eyes turned to the prince, instead of himself. Once upon a time those eyes would have turned to him, to share her joy with. It made Henry grip his wrist tight in frustration. ‘Look at me, look at me,’ he begged silently.

She did not heed his request.

“I'm just glad I was able to win _Nike Dancing_ ,” Prince Harry confessed as he brought up Vicky's hand up to kiss it.

She laughed, “ _Daughter of Styx Dancing_ ,” she corrected.

“Same difference.”

“It could be Bia dancing.”

Harry let go of her hand in favor of placing his arm around her waist. “Yes, but I remember when you painted it.” He put his lips to her ear, to whisper something that made her blush and smile widely. Harry stood up straight again, his eyes twinkling. “So you see, it has to be Nike dancing, because she was the one fluttering her wings with Eros at Harmonia’s wedding. Right, Nike?”

It felt wrong to Henry that Harry knew about her nickname. Though Henry had no right, really, he wasn't the one that had given it to her.

The sparkle of something caught his eye. A stark reminder.

“Congratulations on your engagement.” It was said as sincerely as he could manage.

“Thank you,” Harry and Vicky said together, and then laughed in that way that couples who were completely in sync do. The ginger met the brunette’s eyes and that's when Henry finally understood.

She was gone. He lost her, and she was gone, and she was going to marry a prince. Despite being American, and of mixed background, she had captured the majority of the public’s heart. They were already hailing her as the next Grace Kelly, charming even her harshest critics. If the rags held any truth, Queen Elizabeth adored Vicky while apparently she and Kate clashed with Camilla. (But they liked to say everyone was clashing with Camilla.) In the industry there were already talks for made for television movies to depict their love story, much like they did for Kate and William.

If he knew Vicky at all, and he felt even after their split he still did, then he knew she must had the entire royal family charmed. Most obviously Prince Harry was enchanted the most.

And damned those studios that wanted to shove their relationship in his face.

Later he found her, without her fiancé. She greeted him again, her hand around a drink and her engagement ring now on clear display for him.

“I am truly glad that you are happy,” Henry told her. “Though I can't believe you choose a ginger over me.”

Vicky took a sip of her drink with a small bitter smile as she did so, as if what she tasted was sour. “Thank you.” Her eyes were cool as she met his, her shoulders squared, and he knew what she had to say wasn't going to be good. “That's the thing though, Henry, I didn't choose him over you. You were the one that chose to betray me. And you made one of my biggest fears come true. There is no ‘you versus him’.” She took another sip of her drink, her shoulders rising and falling to calm herself down. “I'm sorry, we've already hashed out a version of the ages ago. Thank you. I am really happy, he makes me really happy. I hope you are happy too, Henry, despite what you did. If you're not, then I hope you are able to find someone that makes you just as happy as Harry makes me.”

Henry was not able to respond in anyway as Harry chose that moment came over to whisk Vicky away, probably to take her back to his castle.

If only he had taken Hiddleston’s advice and truly cherished her, he wouldn't be watching her walk out of his life for a second time.

Before they were completely out of sight he had the pleasure of seeing Vicky and Harry share a kiss.

Fuck.

She was probably right, there was no competition between him and Prince Harry. It still didn't help that it felt that he had lost, that Harry hadn't just walked away with the greatest prize.


End file.
